A Depraved Blessing

by D. C. Clemens

  “You can’t be serious,” she said, not picking up on my insincerity. “If panic does ensue, the traffic will be unbearable. We can’t make a trip twice as long just for her.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” I said in my inescapable consent. “It’s not a bad idea to have her with us if Evon does start cracking. Besides, I’m sure she’ll leave her comfort zone for Dayce, if nothing else.”

  I allowed two days to pass, so as to wait for the oncoming weekend, before I attempted to confront my mother about our plan. It only required an hour and a half of debate, a few stern pronounces of her first name, Bethma, to express my seriousness, and promising multiple times that her demands would be met to ultimately convince her. She surrendered, but not without sounding disgruntled. I drove the two hundred mile stretch early the following morning for the beginning of what I knew was going to be a vexing journey. She still lived in my childhood home, a small apartment building not far from the city’s center. It always gave her satisfaction to know she lived in one of the bigger accommodations, but that didn’t say much in that building.

  I must have had a prophetic vision to bring the van, for I saw piles of luggage stockpiled in the living room when I stepped in, and I knew how many more there would be strewn about the apartment. It was easier to identify the objects she was not going to bring based on the plethora of bare shelves I saw. I was about to say this sentiment out loud before my mother gave me a disapproving look telling me it was best that I did not say a word about it. I complied, knowing how much she cherished every one of the items since my father’s death. It was as though each piece represented a different part of him and they all needed to stay together for the complete portrayal, so she did not like to separate from them for long.

  We only managed brief sentences between us during the early part of the drive, unless I included her judgmental grimacing every time I made a turn or accelerated too quickly as conversation. It wasn’t until she placed a cigarette in her hand about halfway home did I become uneasy and alert at her next words, given that the action was her usual signal for the coming of loose lips.

  “Anything new about the alien?” she asked. She lighted her cigarette and proceeded to inhale her first puff. Exhaling her first cloud of smoke, she said, “I haven’t watched the news all day since I was forced to pack and getting myself ready to leave.”

  “It’s still fixing itself,” I replied to her, avoiding her not so subtle remark. “Just wait another few days and the outside should be completely healed. Not until then should we expect any news to happen.”

  “And what does that terrible Lormek say now?”

  “I haven’t talked to him since that first time. I was fortunate to have had the opportunity to talk to him at all. And, as I recall, ‘terrible’ wasn’t the word you used to describe him the first time you saw him.”

  “Looks don’t change how crude that man is.” Then, quickly trying to change the subject, she said, “I need to take a nap when we arrive. Will my room be ready?” Her tone indicated my answer be in the affirmative or experience her coarser side.

  “Yes, Mom, we prepared the room just how you like it. The windows are covered with heavy drapes so the light won’t shine through,” another exhale of smoke reached my face, as she did not bother aiming her mouth to the open window, “and the bed is away from the air vent. Any other preferences you’d like? How ‘bout getting Dayce to read you some bedtime stories and getting him to tuck you in?” I made my attitude as playful as possible, trying to lighten the mood, more specifically, mine.

  “Do you know how Siena is doing in all this?” she asked, rather unexpectedly.

  “Why in the name of the Spirits would I know?” I stated irritably. I hated how carefree she mentioned her, as if she expected I had secretly been talking to her behind Liz’s back. “We have completely different lives now, different people to worry about,” I continued, not even attempting to subdue my aggravation.

  “She was wondering how you were doing,” she said just as nonchalantly as before, taking no heed of my crystal clear annoyance.

  The indifferent response was unforeseen and briefly made me forget I was driving, making me nearly swerve into incoming traffic. “How do you know that? Did you call her?!”

  “No!” she responded with some emotion for the first time, and I’m sure it wasn’t because of my driving. She speedily recovered herself. “She’s the one that called me the other day. She asked how we were holding up. She’s a very considerate girl, isn’t she? Of course, she asked me not to tell you she called.”

  More smoke. I remained silent and opened more of my window.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me how she’s doing?” she wondered, after it was clear I was not going to continue the discussion voluntarily.

  Concluding the obvious, I said, “If she called, then she’s fine too.” I noticed she was finally about to finish her cigarette.

  Unhesitatingly, she said, “She’s with her parents in Hornstone-”

  “Mom,” I began to explain through clenched teeth, trying to keep my tone as placid as possible, “I didn’t ask you, and if you don’t want to spend your upcoming nights in a hotel, then I suggest you don’t mention a word of this to Liz. She doesn’t need to hear how her ex-friend is doing, especially from you.”

  “Pardon me, but I thought anyone would want to know how someone they care about was doing,” she said, failing to sound apologetic.

  I pointed the van at a forthcoming gas station, despite the fact the fuel tank was less than half empty. I could not get there fast enough, not trusting myself to stay another moment in such a confined space with my mother’s unrelenting visit to the past. My stop did not go without merit. She never spoke of Siena during the rest of the trip. No matter how much irritation I felt toward my mother for bringing up what I could only label as ancient times, a small hint of relief crept into my heart knowing Siena was indeed safe, even if I recognized how she logically had to be. Her occupation, marine biology, would be among the last jobs that would be involved with Dorvale or anything associated with it, assuming we did not discover the spacecraft to contain an underwater environment.

  We arrived without any more incidents after what felt like a weeklong conference. My mother always gave the impression of time waddling along at a slower pace. We were in time for lunch, but in spite of my hunger, I could not eat with my usual zest. I was vigilant of the constrained battle going on before me, whose combatants were my mother and Liz. They were tangibly together, feigning smiles and pretending not to watch each other’s every move, but they could not have been further apart emotionally. No prolonged eye contact was made and it retreated quickly when there accidentally was. Their sentences were patchy, and the brief conversations they did have were anything but elegant. Liz continued to bite her tongue through the night while my unassuming mother enjoyed seeing her do it.

  In the middle of it, I was a spectator for it all and continued to count down the minutes, sometimes seconds, of the intermission until the next day. I was weary when I left to bed, mostly due to watching the inaudible havoc of the day, and also with my recent comprehension that similar days lay ahead. My fatigue began to subside when my head met my old pillow. My latent mind continually settled on Siena. I would revive the memories of our shared past every time her aspect appeared before my shut eyes. I then gradually traveled to the future that was never written, continuing to follow this unknown dimension into my dreams.

  The headaches I expected to endure over the next few days were not as painful as I had anticipated. Of course, that’s not to say the passive aggressive undertone wasn’t alive and well between the two central women of my life, and that insolent comments were not being hissed under their breath, but that was the best case scenario I imagined coming from their undeclared contention. On the second day of operation “Mother-in-Law,” Liz decided to leave to her office, which really meant she needed to escape from my mother, as it was still the weekend. It spoke tellingly for her emot
ional state to know she would rather be yelled at by her boss than to be mentally belittled by my mother. I concluded Bethma had won the first round.

  Meanwhile, Dayce and I were on a mission to enliven his grandmother’s spirits before Liz returned, each of us carrying different motivations. I wanted to make Liz feel less harassed when she came home to a subdued Bethma, while Dayce merely found delight in it. With all the failings she was as a mother-in-law, she nearly made up for it by being a wonderful grandparent. Dayce greatly enjoyed the way she was so eager to take part in anything he wanted and answer any questions he had involving any topic he could think of. Bethma also never failed to have a childishly witty answer or comment for him. As Dayce became older, I noticed that he increasingly began to look with wonder and perplexity at his grandmother when he observed the relationship between her and his mother. While they were careful not to argue in front of him, their dislike for each other became hard to hide, even from a child.

  Notwithstanding my trivial trials at home, the genuine menace still lay beyond. Every minute that passed, the colossal structure came closer to completely restoring itself. There was no sign of it relenting. The world witnessed the cracks upon it fade almost hourly. As each day ended, more boxes were being packed, slowly adorning our house floors, while our drawers and shelves were progressively being stripped of their contents. Hornstone was our emergency refuge and we did not want to waste any time getting there by preparing our provisions at the last second. Lizbeth’s parents would be waiting for us there in her childhood home. It was a midsized town three hundred miles south, and even my mother agreed it was the best option for us, given we were too close to a major city to remain if a calamity broke out. In truth, our jobs were our only ties left to hinder our leaving. We would have already loosened them entirely if we were sure Liz’s unsympathetic boss would not fire her.

  The anticipation was rising as the final crack persisted at the center of its roof. It was previously so deep and broad when I compared it with the earlier photos, and now it looked like nothing but a trifling notch upon its potent frame. All were waiting for the moment to arrive when it would finally complete its task, with much of the world, like Lormek, treating the healing as a makeshift countdown. When the dim light of early dawn made its appearance above our horizon on the first weekday, the wait was declared over. Pictures of every angle and footage of the sharpest kind showed that not one scratch was left on its lustrous surface. From what we could see in the dwindling Valland evening, it was flawlessly smooth, as though it had never savagely impacted the ground, and it made it seem like there was a new, otherworldly gleam to it after its rehabilitation. It was not until then did I truly begin to appreciate how remarkable a structure it was. It was challenging for me not to become awed by its beauty and magnitude. Each breath on Evon was held and filled with expectancy, however, the minutes transmuted to hours and the edifice kept its reserve. A sense of relief started increasing in the collective air after the day was out, and the feeling was contagious. I went to bed feeling a little reassured and sleep came easy. The tranquility did not last.

  I slumbered with Lizeth, my mother, and Dayce dwelling in my dreaming mind. All of us were in a small apartment, the one Liz and I lived in before we bought our house, contemplating our idyllic future before us. Without warning, the lights in our room went dark and I heard someone brutally knocking on the wooden door. We all ran and gathered in the farthest corner of the room, not wanting to open the assaulted door, though I couldn’t say why, except that we had a dreadful feeling something horrendous was on the other side. The pounding on the door grew louder and louder, but still I did not move. Dayce and Liz were crying and my mother was begging for me to stay with them and not open the door. But the choice was not ours to make. One of the knocks became a ferocious bang, causing the door to crack and let in a blinding stream of light. I closed my eyes with my family in my arms. I heard the door shatter, but when I opened my eyes to see what was going to be our end, I was staring at the ceiling.

  I let out a long exhale and turned to Liz, who was sleeping peacefully alongside me. As I was leaning to kiss her forehead, there was a loud knock on the door.

  Chapter Six

  Emergence

  There was a brief inclination to run to the nearest corner of the room, but before I could wholly dismiss the notion, I heard a familiar voice through the locked entrance.

  “Roym! Something is happening to the ship! Get up and come quick!”

  The ordinary voice of my mother subsided my rattled nerves to some extent, despite her troubled tone. My torpid gaze met the clock on the nightstand, informing me it was still two hours before dawn’s advent. Pure darkness lounged behind the window curtains, not even the cold gleam of the moons and far-flung stars were hanging in their customary slots. My mother persisted to knock on the door, but did not add more than what was already expressed. She did finally stop when she heard me say, “We’ll be right out!”

  Liz stirred next to me and mumbled a few words that I didn’t catch. Once my mind made sure I was in the dimension of the material, I began moving more deliberately. We would have left quicker, but we were by no means ready to show ourselves, since we were completely undressed—a consequence of Liz liking to spite my mother by making love to me almost every night she was in our home. My wife did not waste any time trying to find out what the commotion was all about. The familiar words “Breaking News” emerged before us on the lower end of the screen when she roused our little bedroom television from its respite. Both of us stood almost motionless, rapt by the display. It was a live look at the spacecraft, and its appearance was discernably altered from the last time we beheld it. Bright, sharp blue lines had manifested on its exterior, crisscrossing themselves along all three visible walls and traveling in all directions with no true pattern or design. The only goal they all followed was to gather around the border of the ceiling, where the unnerving light shined at its brightest. The intense light did not seem to lose any dimness to the air, as if some type of invisible force field prohibited any light particle from dispersing freely. The twilight sky was retreating, but even the sun at its most dazzling would have stood no chance to defeat the glow of the alien rays.

  According to the telecaster, the blue marks first made their arrival only ten minutes before, with no new activity transpiring since. Liz and I soon joined my mother in the living room to resume our anticipation of the future together. Complete sentences were scarcely spoken between us. There was a peculiar, pervading feeling surrounding us that I sensed was not just confined to our room, but was permeating into the entire waking world. It would also not require a big leap to say that it was interweaving into the domain of our ancestors, who were watching in another not so distant realm. For that tick of the clock, the past, present, and our unforeseen future were all fused to mean one and the same.

  Time’s blade sliced off half an hour. I do not believe I moved during the interim. I would have been surprised to learn I had blinked. At any rate, one minute after the elapse of that half hour, change revived itself. The assembled brilliant blue streaks became brighter, which I didn’t think possible an instant before, and they began to move toward the center of the roof lengthwise, dividing it into two equal halves. They next started splitting in opposite directions, unraveling the roof with it. A vague, bluish light, or a color strongly resembling the color blue, gradually came breaching out from the inside, uniting itself with the dimming sky. The roof was completely unsealed in a matter of seconds, a result our finest scientists and engineers would not have accomplished if they were given another century.

  When I thought my bewilderment had reached its pinnacle, I was swiftly amended to believe otherwise. I saw, with beads of sweat leaking out my forehead, an object emerge from the depths of the eerie blue light. It was humbled against its keeper, but I knew it could challenge the tallest skyscraper our civilization could offer. The camera faltered as it was struggling to zoom up to the object. As it did, I cou
ld see that it was roughly shaped like a screw, though its head was a long crossbar. Other details were difficult to clarify in the fuzzy picture. A teal light was delicately gushing beneath the ends of the farthest points that made its roof, which appeared to be the source of its propulsion, for it was rising gradually under its own influence into the black sky. It was not alone for long. Others identical to the first soon followed behind it.

  They all hovered higher and higher in graceful harmony. When their leader reached about a mile above the main vessel, its pace rapidly accelerated. Before I could adjust my eyes to it, it was swallowed by the heavens. Its comrades mimicked their trailblazing leader’s actions when they reached their unseen mark. Before a flash of light expired, they were all gone, leaving behind their progenitor. By my count, twenty-two of the objects appeared and went, which was later confirmed by those counting on television. When her children disappeared from our sights, the mother bade her farewell to us. She closed her roof and her glaring blue lines seemingly vanished into the air itself. She was soundless once again, exactly as she had been when I first laid eyes on her, and yet, now entirely transformed.

  We were sitting hushed and inflexible on our red couch, waiting for some signal to stir us again. Liz was to my left and my mother to my right. I had no idea what was dwelling in their minds, but if it was anything resembling mine, I pitied them. I thought we were going to remain in this inert state the rest of the morning, but Liz was strong enough to rebel against the considerable influence.

  “Roym, what just happened?”

  I was questioning the same matter to myself, without much result, but, for her sake, I could not remain wordless. “Those were clearly other ships,” I began saying, attempting to sound as poised as possible, but I quickly faltered. “I don’t… maybe… maybe they were some type of lifeboats.”